If you will please, let me carry on a little more about our yard. It's becoming my obsession, spreading over into dreams and taking over dinner conversations. Last night I walked up and down the back tree line, wondering if I should dig out old stones set in the ground over a hundred years ago when this yard was one of the largest pecan plantations. When I awoke, the moon was still only half way across the sky. In the evenings, at that wonderful time between when Chad gets home and dinner is set on the table, I grab his hand and lead him on a tour of what I've started and what I've planned. That's actually become my favorite part of the day now.  The sun is behind the big trees, everything seems settled and calm and he and I talk about the yard like we've lived here for years.  Actually, we don't know a thing about the yard except for the bushes and flowers that bloom overnight.  Only now, after eight long months of working on the inside of the house, can I finally make time for where I really want to be.  
I think he's impressed with how I've been spending my afternoons and how much work I can get done home alone.  The way he glances around and raises his eyebrows, or the little hand squeezes he gives me, those are big rewards.  Those little things keep me going, keep me digging harder, physically, emotionally and spiritually. 

Even though I'm a month ahead, I feel like I'm two behind.  The garden area is coming along, the blueberry bushes are in, five long vegetable rows have been dug and it's starting to look just like my plans.  Back home, the first plant went in the weekend of Mother's Day and not a day before.  Here, I'm told, planting season starts the weekend of Easter.  That seems perfect, a celebration of eternal life.

I suppose this is the first post in a new gardening series, because if everything goes according to my hopes and dreams and plans, this yard is going to play a big part in our lives here.



 I've always wanted to throw a girlie birthday party, one that is filled with all the pretty things we girls dream of, tea parties, flowers and pink pom poms, with fairy wings and sparkles...and a pretty jeweled crown.  I love being the mother of two boys, but those pretty things don't go well with cowboys and ninjas.  My best friend has two girls the same ages as my boys and she always threw the prettiest parties for them.  Every year I would drag the boys, they, of course, were the only boys there, but I made them suffer through it while I twirled with the girls and sipped tea with them until the cake was cut.  I always wished those parties would never stop.  Of course they did, but oh, those were lovely days, and lovely memories.    

Birthdays are so special, aren't they?  To know, how ever many years ago, that you came into this world.  The day you took your first breath and joined everyone else on this beautiful earth.  It's such a magnificent thought. 
Every May 20th I wake up feeling so alive, so alert to the day, every minute feels awesome to me. With every breath I take, I know I was made for this day.  That's what I hope my boys know about their own birthdays, it's a celebration of their life.  Their own created and unique life. As their mother, I hold every minute of those days close to my heart.

I do have a girl now, a special one who makes my son smile and laugh and so very happy.  I owe her a beautiful day for that.  A day where she feels like the world is spinning just for her. When hearts are happy and laughter flows and all her wishes come true.  And hopefully, a day that she'll remember well into her own mothering years.

When she blows out her candles, I hope her every wish comes true.  Mine has.